


Blood Rush

by Copper_Nails (Her_Madjesty)



Category: Rogue One: A Star Wars Story (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Bareknuckle Boxing, Boxing & Fisticuffs, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Star Wars Fight Club!AU, Unresolved Romantic Tension, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-05
Updated: 2017-05-05
Packaged: 2018-10-28 05:09:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10824432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Her_Madjesty/pseuds/Copper_Nails
Summary: The halls of the club are a little too familiar; the boss's calculated friendliness a little too...much. Jyn’s sixteen again without a thought, all pointed elbows and lean muscle; it’s a fight every night and bloody mornings, cursing Saw through teeth that are going just a little too loose.Or:Cassian and Jyn get sent on a mission to Coruscant, and Jyn has to get her hands dirty.





	Blood Rush

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sempaiko](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sempaiko/gifts).



> Happy May 4th, sempaiko! You prompted me with "Both [Jyn and Cassian] being Badasses™ and both getting hot about that fact", and I do hope I've delivered. This piece got away from me a bit; I wanted to rewrite it one more time before the holiday, but I didn't have enough time. I hope you like it!
> 
> To everyone else: May the 4th be with you!
> 
> Note to consider: the character of Khajitee is nonbinary, thus the use of xe/xyr throughout.
> 
> XOXO

Coruscant’s underbelly comes in many colors, though all of them are shadowed. Moving through the wet alleys sees a draining of the light; it fades until all that’s left is the flickering of neon signs and the occasional bioluminescent glow of non-humanoid skin.

Jyn blinks through the darkness, waiting for her eyes to adjust before she rounds another corner. A sputter of neon reveals fellow lurkers leaning up against durasteel walls. She passes by an Anzati down on her knees in front of a grunting human male and almost winces in sympathy. Anzati have...interesting mating rituals; the girl’s partner will be lucky if he makes it out of this alley with his head still attached to his body.

Despite the slight twinge of conscious at the sight of the two of them together, Jyn presses on.

Her clothes are a touch too loose for her liking, and her hair is down around her shoulders; she draws it over her face as she move forward. It’s thick enough to cover the peach-colored comm in her ear, but only just.

On the other end of the line, Jyn hears Cassian huff.

“Something wrong?” she mutters.

“Crowds,” Cassia grunts back.

Jyn lets out an amused breath. “I told you,” she says, her mouth barely moving. “The alleys are always faster.”

“I’m not in this for speed,” Cassian replies.

Jyn dodges a stack of crates full of havana fruit and wrinkles her nose at the smell. Her boot sinks into a puddle of Force-knows-what; she hisses and hears Cassian laugh in response.

“Five minutes ‘til destination for me,” he tells her.

“Great.” Jyn shakes the wetness off of her boot and continues to push forward. “Still want me to arrive after you?”

“I have an in with the owner,” Cassian reminds her. “Once I have everything settled, you can join me.”

Jyn rolls her eyes. “I have an in with the owner, too, you know.”

“Yes, but mine is a little less...historied.”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Cassian snorts, a shadow of his former laugh.

Jyn slows her pace, ducking her head as she moves past three humanoids, the lot of them sucking on death sticks.

Their mission isn’t particularly challenging – the Council, in the aftermath of _the literal Death Star exploding_ , has ordered them to check in with one of Cassian’s Imperial contacts in order to track enemy movement. His contact, one Yamen Branz, flits between Coruscanti clubs with the consistency of a grease gnat, chasing whatever pleasure catches his wavering attention. His messages to Cassian are always triply encrypted, though, so Jyn can’t hate him – not entirely.

Two buzzes in her ear – Cassian tapping his comm. He’s arrived. Jyn measures her steps and listens as he mutters a greeting to the bouncer of Fisticuffs, one of Coruscant’s middling to upperclass fight clubs.

“I have an arrangement with Khajitee,” Cassian says, no doubt pulling himself up to his full height. Jyn quiets her breathing and listens well, slowing nearly to a stop. Cassian wears false faces as well as his own; it’s never quite comfortable, watching him take on a role, but it certainly is...something.

One tap. He’s made it in, no problem.

Jyn shoves her hands into her pockets and keeps walking. She spots the neon of Fisticuffs in the distance and pauses, pushing up against a nearby wall and listening, always listening.

“Captain Willix!”

Jyn doesn’t bother not to roll her eyes. If the club owner is drunk enough to be this loud already, she and Cassian are in for a long night.

“Khajitee,” Cassian replies.

“Where is your lovely companion?” she hears Khajitee ask. “I haven’t seen Kestrel in years.”

“She had business to take care of elsewhere, but she’ll be joining us soon.” Cassian sounds about as amused as Jyn feels.

“Excellent, excellent.” Khajitee’s voice dulls down to a static rumble, but Jyn knows xe’s no doubt showing Cassian around the club’s frankly gaudy back office. She counts softly below her breath and tries not to chuckle as Cassian offers false commentary on the art hanging on Khajitee’s walls.

Another tap buzzes in her ear. Jyn pushes off the wall and starts moving again.

There’s tape wrapped around her ungloved knuckles; she plays with it as she steps out of her cozy alley. The bouncer in front of Fisticuffs is a Drovian, twice Jyn’s height with skin as orange as Yavin itself. Jyn walks up to him and readjusts her wraps for a moment longer before paying him any mind.

“Meeting with Khajitee,” she grunts, disinterest oozing off of her in waves. It’s not a hard feeling to fake.

“Boss is busy,” the Drovian grunts.

“With Captain Willix,” Jyn supplies. She holds her hands up in mock-surrender as the Drovian narrows his eyes. “He’s my boss,” she says, forcing a smile. “Go ahead and comm _your_ boss. The both of them are expecting me.”

Drovians are not particularly forgiving creatures; this one seems on the edge of his temper already. Still, he leans away from her, taking his rotting breath with him, and plays with the comm device hanging from his belt.

“Boss,” he says. “You expecting some human bitch?”

Jyn crosses her arms and sighs.

Khajitee’s voice comes ringing through from the other side. “Ah, now that sounds like the Kestrel I know and love. Send her up and in, if you please!”

The Drovian rolls his eyes and lets the comm smack against his upper thigh. He reaches out with one of his four arms, catches Jyn by the back of her jacket, and thrusts her inward. Jyn’s breath is knocked over her as she stumbles over the threshold. She rights herself in an instance, forcing herself to breathe instead of punching the man in the gut. Instead, she looks back and offers him a cheeky grin along with a half-assed salute.

The Drovan flicks her off with all four of his middle fingers, then turns back to the street.

*

By the time she’s arrived up at Khajitee’s office, Jyn’s only just managed to wipe the shit eating grin off of her face.

“Ah, Kestrel!” Khajitee flings the door open for her even before she knocks, grinning down with several rows of sharp teeth.

Jyn glances around Khajitee’s tall, skinny body and sees Cassian lingering in the background, staring up at a picture of a Goran lounging amidst a pile of fruit.

“You haven’t changed a bit, have you?” Khajitee says. “Still as short tempered as ever. You didn’t damage any of my staff, did you?”

Jyn lets a slow smirk do her talking for her.

Khajitee lets out a put-upon sigh. “Come in, dear,” xe says. “Tell me all about the expenses I’ll be paying out on your behalf tonight.”

“Your faith in us is astounding,” Cassian interjects. He’s turned away from the painting now and wears a smirk that matches Jyn’s. It’s a disconcerting thing, seeing it on his face; Jyn blinks, then forces herself to look away.

“Not faith,” Khajitee tsks. “Familiarity. When Kestrel used to fight at my club, I’d pay out as much in prizes as I would in liabilities fees. I mourned her when she left, truly I did, but my bank account did not.”

“Well if that’s the case, I’ll go ahead and leave,” Jyn says.

Khajitee’s hand comes down on her back, a laughing, friendly thing. “No, no, my dear,” xe says. “It’s been so long since we’ve had a real, bloody fight. You couldn’t imagine my surprise when your...what exactly are you to her, Willix?”

“Let’s say supervisor.” Cassian-as-Willix has an oily smile, one that makes Jyn’s innards shrivel.

“Mm, that’s juicy,” Khajitee purrs. “Well, anyway, it was still quite a shock when you got in touch with me. You really want her back in the ring?”

“I think she’s earned the opportunity,” Cassian says, shrugging. “So long as you cooperate with me.”

“Yes, yes, your little tricks.” Khajitee waves a hand, whisking away Cassian’s words. “You’re lucky I was able to find your Mr. Brenz; he’s a hard man to keep track of. The two of you have your private box, curtains and all, though I do encourage you to keep them open for _some_ of tonight’s events.”

Cassian can’t quite keep his eyes from going wide, and neither can Jyn. She composes herself faster than he does, though, and flashes Khajitee a conspiratorial grin. “I thought you were evaluating _me_ ,” she says, false-accusatory tones in her voice.

Cassian re-assumes his sense of ease and offers her another shrug. “We’ll see,” he says. “You’ll just have to make sure you can hold my attention.”

It’s a challenge as much as it is a joke, one that Jyn takes to heart. “Oh, don’t worry,” she says. “That won’t be an issue.

Khajitee looks between the two of them, eyes narrowing slightly. Xe goes silent for a moment, then seems to make a decision. “I see,” xe says, grinning slowly. “ _Well_ , then. Kestrel, darling, would you like to make your way down to the green room? I assume you remember where it is.”

Jyn looks over to Khajitee and nods, then glances back over to Cassian. He holds his nose in the air and considers her for a moment before offering up another greasy smile. “I’ll come collect you afterwards,” he tells her. “So long as you impress, that is.”

“Now, now, Captain,” Jyn hears Khajitee say as she turns away. “You should really have more faith in the girl.”

The joke lands, and Cassian laughs, but Jyn’s out the door before she hears it end.

She leans back against the door of Khajitee’s office, dropping Kestrel in favor of Jyn. It takes her too long to realize that her hands are shaking. She forces herself to still, takes one deep breath, then lets it out slowly.

The halls of Fisticuffs are a little too familiar; Khajitee’s calculated friendliness a little too...much. Jyn’s sixteen again without a thought, pointed elbows and lean muscle; it’s a fight every night and bloody mornings, cursing Saw through teeth that are going just a little too loose.

Then she shakes herself, and it’s post-Scarif. Cassian’s with her, watching her back. Saw is dead, dust in another Jedha sandstorm.

Jyn takes another deep breath. She replaces Kestrel with nostalgic care, then pushes off of Khajitee’s office door.

The ‘green room’ isn’t so much a waiting room as it is a glorified holding pen. Jyn slips past the guards in front of the gated doors and makes her way inside, then over to a corner where she can view the whole of the room. Cassian is still buzzing in her ear, talking nonsense in Willix’s voice. She catches the last syllable of her name and tunes in, momentarily ignoring the shadows lurking around her.

“Kestrel?” she hears Cassian say. There’s a touch of laughter in his voice, though not necessarily the good kind. “It was luck I ran into her. She nearly took the head off of one of my officers the first time I met her. I knew then that she’d be an ally I could make use of.”

Jyn rolls her eyes and pretends to gag. She tunes him out, after that.

Across the room, two Jenets pass a canteen back and forth, their eyes glazing over even as they grow jittery. A gold-skinned Blood Carver fiddles with her mechanical arm, stopping only to glare at Jyn when she stares. A Klatooinian gives her a passing once over before moving away, settling down next to the gates that lead into the fight ring.

It’s a quiet crowd. The longer the silence drags, the more uneasy Jyn becomes.

In the distance, a bell rings.The Klantooinian stands, cracks his neck, and settles back on his haunches.

Jyn hears Cassian tap against his comm. It’s a signal; he’s met up with Brenz, which means the bouts are about to begin.

Jyn leans back in her seat and closes her eyes, trying not to listen to the roar of the crowd outside.

Unlike many of the shadows flittering around the room, she’s hear as a volunteer. It takes two of Khajitee’s guards to force the Klatooinian out the front gates, and even then, they’re barely enough.

Jyn doesn’t wince when she hears him scream. If no sentient creature wants to face him, then Khajitee will have put him up against something a little more malleable – and something, much, much worse.

She hears the familiar sound of a loth cat scream and wonders, idly, if this meet up with Brenz is really going to be worth it.

The bout lasts for longer than she expected it to. The Klatooinian comes back with his mouth bloodied and several cuts down his front, but at least he’s still standing. Polite nods circle the green room as he makes his way towards the first set of gated doors, hopefully towards Khajitee’s mock-infirmary.

The guards let him out, then wave a hand towards Jyn.

“You,” one says, “on your feet.”

Jyn does as she’s told. As subtly as she can, she reaches up and pulls her hair away from her face, tying it back behind her head. She taps her comm when she does – a message to Cassian: her bout is up.

(She’s the bargaining chip in this exchange, the bribe that’d gotten Cassian an agreement with Khajitee in the first place, regardless of any connections he’d claimed to have. It’d irked her, at first, but now, as Cassian taps on his comm and watches from above, Jyn finds she’s relieved – she’s at least familiar with the arena; she doesn’t know if she could have watched him go through the ringer.)

(Not again. Not after Scarif.)

After a moment or two of prodding, the blood carver rises to join Jyn at the arena gates. Jyn looks over towards the carver’s gold skin with a neutral expression, even as she snaps her mechanic arm back into place.

“Hello, little one,” the carver says. There’s boredom rooted deep in her tones. “What’s your name?”

“That’s not really important, is it?” Jyn replies.

She’s never seen a blood carver smile before, but this one manages an approximation. “I am T’Ferre,” she says, as though Jyn had bothered asking. Her gaze, when she looks Jyn over again, is cold, but not without laughter.

Jyn raises an eyebrow. Her gaze flickers down as T’Ferre raises her mechanical hand. She doesn’t allow herself to wince when T’Ferre brings two cold digits to the side of her face. They drag across her skin, too gentle to be anything but a threat.

T’Ferre’s not-quite smile grows wider. “I look forward to seeing what color you turn when you bruise,” she says.

Outside the gate, a bell rings. T’Ferre’s hand drops away as the gates slide open. Jyn, eyebrow still raised, motions her opponent forward.

T’Ferre steps into Fisticuff’s ring and is greeted by an abysmal noise. Khajitee calls out her name and rank through a modified blow horn and lets her take a lap around the ring before sending her off to her corner.

Maybe a volunteer, then. Jyn can’t be quite sure. She waits. She breathes. She listens.

Then, Cassian’s in her ear. “Stay safe,” he whispers.

“Fuck off,” Jyn whispers back.

“Please welcome back,” Khajitee cries, cheerful above it all, “for old time’s sake and for your viewing pleasure, the Champion of BBY3, Kestrel Dawn!”

The crowd shrieks, some fans tilting out of their seats to get a look at the old champion. Jyn doesn’t bother looking for Cassian in the crowd, though she can see the boxes up above the ring, their velvet curtains a little too bloody in the club’s dim light. He’s muttering something in her ear, Festian and dark, but he’s too quiet for her to even have a chance of making it out.

She settles in her corner of the ring for maybe a moment before a black and white referee is motioning her forward. T’Ferre, skin gleaming, holds out her mechanical hand for a shake. Jyn takes it and doesn’t bother squeezing – it’s a farce, this little show of peace, and the crowd around them knows it.

“Five minute bout!” the referee tells them. “Last one on her feet wins. Fighters ready?”

Jyn nods. So does T’Ferre.

The referee looks up towards Khajitee, who is flanked in xyr box by two observing droids. “Viewers ready?”

“Ready!” Khajitee calls.

The referee nods. He breaks between the two women, raises his arms in the air, and looks back towards the restless crowd.

Jyn sinks into a crouch, her pulse pounding.

The referee’s arms drop. “Fight!”

Jyn is dodging to the side before the word has even left his mouth. T’Ferre lunges forward, flattening the man in her attempt to reach Jyn’s throat. Jyn avoids a grapple only to leap onto T’Ferre’s back, driving her hands into the blood carver’s exposed neck.

T’Ferre swears and throws her off, mechanical arm sparking. Jyn lands hard on the flattened turf and rolls, barely avoiding the fall of T’Ferre’s foot as it comes for her face.

The metal hand catches her as she tries to rise; it slices open her cheek and leaves her gasping.

“First blood!” she hears the referee shout, but it’s a distant, muted thing. She can hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears, tempered only by a shout of Cassian’s, too loud through the comm.

Jyn wipes blood onto the back of her hand. She dodges T’Ferre’s next blow, then circles before pouncing again.

It goes like this:

A straight hit, and Jyn’s fist makes contact with T’Ferre’s solar plexus. Cassian hisses in her ear with something like victory (and it’s a wonder, Jyn thinks, that the comm’s not broken yet).

She swings again, only for T’Ferre to catch her by the wrist. Something snaps, Jyn screams, and Cassian swears, deep, guttural, and scared.

Jyn rights herself, keeps her arm close to her chest, and leaps, planting her feet in the center of T’Ferre’s chest. She flings herself backward, ignoring the way T’Ferre’s outstretched hand tears the fabric of her jacket.

T’Ferre grins as Jyn struggles to right herself, then comes for her again.

“Two minutes!” cries the referee.

T’Ferre’s own blood is black, Jyn realizes, as she digs her nails into the blood carver’s skin. She pulls back, lets T’Ferre lung forward again, and slams the same hand into T’Ferre’s left eye.

The blood carver shrieks, stumbles, clutches at her face. Jyn cradles her injured hand and kicks her feet out from underneath her. When T’Ferre falls, Jyn places her boot on the blood carver’s neck, pushing down until she hears the bones start to crack.

Two broad hands wrap around her ankle, but Jyn drives her good fist into T’Ferre’s nose, and she’s free again.

Tears mix with T’Ferre’s black blood, now. Jyn presses her boot down harder and watches as her cheeks go orange, breathless.

“Thirty seconds!”

There’s a buzzing in her ear, maybe something important, but Jyn ignores it. T’Ferre tries to swing again; Jyn leaps off of her in a dodge only to return a moment later, this time flattening her opponent with the whole of her body.

“Fifteen seconds!”

Her own name crackles through the static in her head. Jyn looks up, distracted, only to be rolled onto her back.

T’Ferre towers over her, snarling and dripping blood. The black splatters on Jyn’s skin, burns for an instant. Jyn swears.

“Come on, Jyn.” It’s Cassian’s voice, desperate. “Come on!”

Jyn kicks, heels connecting with T’Ferre’s stomach. Already shaking, T’Ferre goes concave, falling into the turf as Jyn rolls out from underneath her. She scrambles upright as the crowd counts down the final seconds of the bout.

T’Farre stays down, all the way to the roar of “zero!”

Jyn slumps.

Cassian is shouting something in her ear, still unintelligible to Jyn’s buzzing brain. The referee is at her back, lifting her good hand high into the air. Jyn goes to wipe the blood off her face and grimaces as her wrist complains. Out of the corner of her eye, she sees T’Ferre stand and bat a lingering medical droid away.

Her opponent stares at her through her one good eye and spits. Dirt mixes with bloody phlegm.

Jyn stares back. Then, she shrugs.

The referee guides her from the ring, back into the green room with the other fighters. They give her a wide berth as she slinks back to her corner.

She’s just fallen down, deep into the shadows, when Cassian bursts through the gate. Khajitee follows just behind, lingering as Cassian sinks down in front of her, assessing her injuries.

“Are you alright?” he murmurs, too soft for anyone to hear. The double words echo back through Jyn’s hidden comm.

“I’m fine,” she says, glancing over his shoulder towards Khajitee. Cassian goes to follow her gaze and seems to come back to himself, some of the desperation draining out of his eyes in favor of...something else. He stands, brushes the dirt off of his pants, and assesses her from a healthy two paces back.

Jyn’s head pounds at the sudden distance.

“That was hardly a fair fight,” Khajitee says, but there’s laughter in xyr voice. “You remain as dirty as ever, Kestrel.”

Jyn grins at them and feels some of T’Ferre’s black blood drip onto her bottom lip. “Maybe,” she says, shrugging again. “But I think I’m done for the night.”

Cassian glances at her, still hovering too far outside of her personal space. He taps the back of his own hand in confirmation, and Jyn feels a surge of relief shoot through her. He’s got their information. Their mission is nearly done.

Khajitee glances between them again, the same knowing as before twinkling in xyr eyes. It only takes a moment, though, for that knowing to disappear.

“Of course, of course,” xie says. “Surely you’ll want to stay and watch the other bouts, though?”

“I think not.” Willix’s voice still sounds wrong coming out of Cassian’s mouth, especially when he’s looking at her like _that_. “Kestrel, you have well and truly proven your point.”

Despite herself, Jyn grins. Something dark flashes in Cassian’s eyes, and his arm comes to rest around her shoulders as she forces herself stands.

(Jyn thinks she sees Khajitee roll xyr eyes, but she can’t quite be sure.)

She lets Cassian do the talking to get them out of the club, cradling her wrist and waving away Khajitee’s offered medical services. Cassian’s hand drops from her shoulders to the small of her back as he guides her forward, pushing her through the crowd and warding off curious onlookers and over-zealous fans.

“You’ve made quite the name for yourself,” he says, his mouth brushing against Jyn’s ear. Jyn leans into his touch and reminds herself: it’s a show, a farce, nothing to be worried about. These people don’t know them; they’ll just see what they want to see, believe what they want to believe. Cassian’s good at working with that sort of thing.

Jyn forces a chuckle and carries onward.

They stay like that for several blocks, until the crowd’s curious eyes are long out of sight. Only once they’ve slipped back into Coruscant’s dark alleys does Cassian take his hand from Jyn’s lower back.

She glances back at him the moment his warmth disappears, confused. His eyes flash at once from her lips to the blood no doubt staining her forward, then down to the wrist still held against her chest.

Jyn raises an eyebrow and winces when the motion strains one of her cuts. “What?”

Cassian lets out a long sigh. He shoves his hands deep into his pockets and shuffles awkwardly for a moment. “Let’s not do that again, shall we?” he says. He’s abandoned Willix’s voice, now; it’s Cassian through and through. Despite herself, Jyn feels her mouth threaten to turn up in a smile.

“Oh, I dunno,” she says. “I had fun.”

Cassian rolls his eyes. “I got what we needed,” he says, lowering his voice.

Jyn hums, appreciative. “You’re good at what you do, Captain,” she replies.

Before she can realize what’s happening, Cassian’s reaching out. His fingers, so much warmer than T’Ferre’s, brush against Jyn’s forehead. She feels them catch on the blood there, even as he pushes a strand of hair away from her eyes. There’s concern tucked away beneath his scowl, along with the same heat she’d seen before.

Jyn swallows hard and feels her pulse start to flutter.

“You are, too,” Cassian says, letting his hand drop to his side. He clears his throat and looks away, focusing on anything that isn’t her.

Jyn watches him for a long moment, head tilted to the side. Eventually, she sighs.

Cassian takes lead, after that, guiding the both of them back to the ship they’d docked only hours before. He lends Jyn his coat before they board and helps her scrub some of the blood off of her forehead – better to make her presentable, even if the Coruscant authorities have long stopped asking questions.

They don’t speak again, though, until he’s pulling up the gangplank and she’s shucking off her clothes. They land in a pile in one of the transport’s corners, virtually unwearable and covered in muck.

“Get in the ‘fresher,” Cassian tells her as the gangplank snaps into place. He makes eye contact, starts to smile, then freezes when he sees the state of her breast band. Jyn stares back at him, not quite smirking, and crosses her arms over her chest.

It’s deeply satisfying, watching her captain swallow so hard, but it’s also – well.

He’s certainly not bad to look at, either.

“Get in the ‘fresher,” he says, voice rougher. “You reek.”

Jyn snorts and makes a show of turning away from him. She undoes her knuckle wraps and abandons her boots, followed shortly by her ruined pants.

“You try fighting the blood carver next time,” she says without looking back. “We’ll see if you come out smelling like roses.”

(If she pretends not to feel his eyes following her as she disappears below deck, well – that’s more for her own sake than for his.)

**Author's Note:**

> Let me know what you thought!


End file.
